


shouldn't trample on your confidence

by NightsLikeThis



Category: WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:04:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21504172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsLikeThis/pseuds/NightsLikeThis
Summary: College art student auBayley and Sasha are partners for a project...and things get...Title from Butterfly by Kehlani
Relationships: Sasha Banks/Bayley | Davina Rose
Comments: 24
Kudos: 67





	shouldn't trample on your confidence

A month of knowing Bayley didn’t give Sasha any special insight of her intentions, but Sasha was good at reading people, knew when to trust, and when to waver. But Bayley was complex:

An art student, just like Sasha, kind, quick-witted, but there was something bold there too, under tanned skin, behind brown eyes. From what Sasha could tell, Bayley was confident.

Confident enough to stroll up to Sasha after their first class of the semester and ask to be class partners. Sasha gave Bayley her phone number; she didn’t seem murderous, and despite her forward nature Sasha had to admit that the taller girl was kind of cute: the way she’d make side commentary in class (which would usually annoy Sasha, but something about Bayley made it different), the way she’d lend classmates supplies without a second thought, the way she seemed enamored with the process of art and the way everyone interprets the world differently.

It was a stupid situation really, that got her paying attention to Bayley in the first place. Sasha always the quiet observer was minding her business, listening to the quiet chatter around her as they painted freely on their first day of class, “Get a feel for the space” their quirky professor had said before leaving them to their easels, when she’d felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked up to find a boy she didn’t know the name of.

“Look at this idiot” he chastised, pointing the back end of his brush toward another student’s painting a few rows ahead for Sasha to see what he was talking about.

The painting in question wasn’t bad at all, maybe a little disproportionate, but not ugly by any means. Sasha doesn’t really know what to say: if she agrees, she’d be lying/hating on someone else’s art, if she disagrees then she’s starting confrontation on the first day.

But the choice is taken from her when the dark haired student beside her chimes in.

“Hey!” Bayley calls attention to the boy who’d made the annoying comment, “Mind your own idiocy, will ya?” she chastises back, winking to Sasha when she lifts her head from her painting at the sound of Bayley’s voice.

Sasha almost laughs at the way the boy sinks into himself, but thinks better of bruising his ego even further, but when she turns to look to the girl beside her, she’s not filtering her own pleasure from putting their classmate in his place, a smile firmly clapped onto her face.

So yeah, Sasha gives Bayley her number when she asks 30 minutes later, because Bayley wants to be partners, but also maybe because that smile was...dizzying.

And Bayley texts her often, with the excuse of asking about homework or what type of paint she’s using for their assignment, but the conversations continue into the night sometimes, when Sasha is tucked into bed in the darkness of her tiny studio apartment and words come out more easily.

Bayley is asking “Why an art major?” and Sasha is answering without a second thought.

**_Arts always called to me even as a little kid_ **

**_And its for everyone_ **

**_You dont need to take 6 art history classes to look at starry night and feel something_ **

**_You dont even need to know how to read_ **

**_Its just there_ **

**_And you can feel it_ **

Bayley hadn’t really expected the earnesty, but she’s grateful for the connection, because that’s how she feels too.

**_Exactly_ ** , Bayley types back,  **_And everyone’s eyes are different_ **

**_We can see two completely different things in the same picture_ **

**_And still both find it beautiful_ **

There’s a ripple of understanding in the words, something Sasha didn’t feel when her parents weren’t fond of her decision in major, an understanding that she hadn’t felt until now.

Which brings them to the present, where a tentative friendship has been formed, where Sasha still finds Bayley’s smile dizzying, but there’s something to the girl’s heart as well. There’s an eclipse of care and desire to make other people’s lives easier, but a self-drive that Sasha hasn’t seen in anyone, but herself and Bayley, a confidence, a strength of sorts in seeing herself as the worthy of everything.

And Sasha envies that, especially as they sit in Sasha’s living room brainstorming possible ideas for their first big project of the semester.

Bayley lies on her back on the light blue carpet, her short black hair slung back onto the floor underneath her, as she tosses a plastic ball in the air repeatedly, catching it and restarting the cycle. 

“Are you thinking or playing?” Sasha asks from her position on the sofa a few feet away, when the ball makes its descent into the air for the 10th time, as she taps her pencil, ready to write down any possible ideas.

“Both” Bayley answers throwing the ball again, almost missing the catch this time, “I’m good at multitasking” she finishes too smug, flashing that smile again.

Sasha rolls her eyes, doing her best to mask the desire to smile right back full force.

“C’mon, I’m being serious, we need to think of something” Sasha huffs, hating nothing more than approaching due dates.

“I’m being serious too, dude” Bayley defends herself, “I don’t know just read me the prompt again” she requests, stopping her ball ritual for the time being and placing her hands against her ribcage.

Sasha sighs picking up the assigned paper from the empty space on the couch next to her, “um, okay,” Sasha starts, finding her place on the sheet, “with a partner, create pieces inspired by the same word from the list below on a unique canvas”

“Okay” Bayley says like she’s heard correctly.

“Okay?” Sasha asks, hoping that means Bayley has an idea.

A pause.

“Yeah, I got nothing” Bayley answers, not seeming ashamed of her cluelessness.

“You’re no help” Sasha groans, kicking Bayley’s shoulder, but giggling just the same.

“Why don’t we pick a word from the list and go from there?” Bayley asks, lifting her head just enough to make direct eye contact, like she knows she’s got a good idea.

“Our options are: balanced, hateful, eager, dainty, or  _ confident _ ” Sasha reads off, the last one coming out different.

The word reverberates in Bayley’s brain, but she purses her lips just the same, pretending for the moment that she doesn’t know which one she wants.

“Confident?” Bayley asks and Sasha sort of forgets where they are, what Bayley is asking. Because it sort of feels like a power play: requesting the use of something Bayley oozes and Sasha only wishes for in times like this, when they’re alone and Bayley looks oh so kissable.

“Uh. Sure” Sasha feels lost, but jumps on the chance of toying with the word.

“We can pick a different one if you want” Bayley sits up abruptly, her voice changes to all things soft, gentle care in each syllable, a tone Sasha has only heard Bayley use when they’re alone.

“No! No, it’s fine,” she shrugs, “I like this one”

Bayley smiles, but it isn’t a big and bright one, the ones that make Sasha feel weak, it’s a sweet closed lip smirk that tells of the fondness swelling in her heart.

“Okay, now unique canvas?” Bayley asks, referencing their prompt.

“It says ‘a unique canvas is anything multidimensional that is not a usual canvas for painting” Sasha reads from the worksheet again, pushing her glasses back against her nose.

Bayley smirks then, and Sasha can see the gears turning behind Bayley’s dark eyes, can feel the mischief that lives there.

“What?” Sasha asks, rolling her eyes at Bayley’s smug joy.

“Nothing!” Bayley pushes back seeming offended.

“What are you thinking, Bay?” Sasha tries again threatening to hurl the throw pillow from the sofa into the side of Bayley’s head.

“Okay, Okay!” Bayley defends herself, lifting her arms to protect her face and vital organs from the potential damage from impact, Sasha lowers the pillow giving Bayley the chance to speak, “What about a human canvas?”

“Like each other?” Sasha asks dropping the pillow altogether.

“Yeah” Bayley shrugs, her hand coming up to scratch the back of her neck, “if you’d be okay with that”

“NO!” Sasha is quick to stop any momentum of Bayley changing her mind, “I mean, yeah. That seems like a good idea” she finishes, suddenly feeling small.

“So,” Sasha makes a show of breaking eye contact to write down on their worksheet trying not to think too much about the possibilities of this decision, “Confident and human canvas” she says concretely as she writes the words down.

“Uhhh, maybe I should go?” Bayley says suddenly, seeming not as sure of herself. 

“What? No, you don’t have to go” Sasha flashes her gaze back up wondering where things had gone wrong.

“No,” Bayley snickers, “I just meant like to brainstorm about my piece and then we’ll reconvene in an hour, that sound good?” Bayley explains, slowly, always trying to find the pockets of air that make Sasha feel comfortable.

“Yeah” Sasha swallows wondering why she’d reacted so abruptly, “sounds like a plan”

So Bayley leaves and Sasha starts spiraling. 

_ Human canvas? _

Sasha huffs, tossing herself into a laid out position on her couch, her limbs scattered hopelessly, thinking of all the reasons that this situation was already a bad idea.

She’d hugged Bayley a few times (all initiated by the taller of the two), their fingers had brushed before while handing off a spare paint brush or pencil, and everytime the spark lit Sasha on fire.

So the idea that she’d have to paint on her, feel her, know her well enough to find the right color palette, the right way to push new brush strokes was already stressing her out.

And perhaps the safest option would be painting on an arm or a leg, but Sasha quickly shakes that idea away knowing that it wouldn’t provide enough surface area, but also because she could already see herself getting distracted by the curve of Bayley’s muscles. The next option, Bayley’s stomach, solves the issue of not enough space, but the idea of feeling each new breath, the dip of her abs, the strike of each rib, as Bayley had all the freedom in the world to stare down at her made her think twice.

Sasha blinks quickly, trying to shew away any imagined sequences of Bayley’s abs and chest, instead electing more PG thoughts in shifting her focus to what she’d paint instead of where.

_ Confident. _

Maybe it wasn’t the best word to choose, especially considering she couldn’t readily relate to it, unless of course it was referring to her lack of it, but the word sang to her in that moment, like a cry from the universe to find some confidence to tell Bayley how she feels, but that's easier said than done considering the task at hand seems more pressing with Bayley due back soon.

There isn’t much time to think about the possible subjects of her painting with the swirl of scared energy launching through her brain on repeat, but when Bayley returns with her sketch book tucked under her arm, the flush in her cheeks from Autumn winds: the turmoil only shoots through her more violently. 

Bayley has always made her comfortable, never given her a reason to pull away, but Bayley is a hot stove and Sasha is treading too closely to the heat. The butterflies in her stomach stop her from returning Bayley’s smile as she lets her back into her apartment.

“Hey, you okay?” Bayley asks between breaths, sounding like she’d run the 8 blocks from her apartment to Sasha’s.

“Yeah, um, yeah...I uh, I’m fine” Sasha answers with as much conviction as she can muster, still somehow tripping over her words.

“Did you wanna go first?” Bayley tries again, this time hoping she’s finding what’s making Sasha uncomfortable, hoping that Sasha decides instead of following her usual path of indifference.

Sasha contemplates it for a moment, trying not to fall too deep into the pros and cons, before deciding that going first is probably better, ripping the bandaid off and getting it over with. 

“Yeah, I’ll go” she says before she could stop herself.

“Okay” Bayley quips, suddenly excited, “Where do you want me, darling?”

“Take your shirt off” Sasha demands absentmindedly, getting her paint together from a few feet away. 

“Wow, take me out to dinner first, jeez” Bayley jokes, snickering at her own joke, but pulling her shirt over her head nonetheless. 

Sasha had laid out a tarp in the small open space of her living room while Bayley was gone, beginning to start her set up of a cup of water, her palette, an array of brushes, and now a choice of many colors.

She hesitates in looking up, now that Bayley is shirtless, keeping her eyes toward the ground.

“I’m gonna paint on your back if that’s okay with you” Sasha voices quietly, pouring out a sample of a few colors onto her palette, trying to find the balance of being forward, but also still gaining Bayley’s permission.

She’d decided on her back in the spur of the moment, knowing that anywhere would draw butterflies and sexual tension, but at least choosing her back saved Sasha from Bayley’s dark prying eyes.

Bayley nods in answer, before realizing Sasha isn’t looking at her,  _ something new. _

She drops to her knees on top of the tarp obediently, falling forward to lay on her stomach, both of her arms coming up to rest under her chin. 

Sasha looks up then, following the sound of Bayley’s knees hitting the carpet to find the expanse of tanned back at her fingertips. She hadn’t prepared herself for the possibility that Bayley’s back would be just as toned and muscular as the rest of her body. The next thing she takes notice of is Bayley’s butt, something she’s admired many times, but never like this, never on display for her.

Sasha takes out her phone, hitting shuffle on a R&B/Hip Hop playlist on her phone, hoping to alleviate some of her nerves. As music starts to fill the air around them, she’s swallowing her nerves and forcing herself to take the next step. Making sure her needed tools are within reach she steps over Bayley’s back before sitting down to straddle her waist. 

Sasha could be wrong, heightened stress and all that, but she swears she hears confident Bayley’s breath hitch as Sasha settles herself against the back of Bayley’s upper thighs. They both save themselves from speaking, taking in the beat of a faint Usher song flowing in and out of their general focus.

But Sasha pushes forward, grounding her weight against Bayley until she feels a little more comfortable, before she wills herself to ask the next necessary question.

“Can I..?” Sasha trails off in a quiet husk as she traces her finger along the clasp at the back of Bayley’s bra.

“Yeah” Bayley whispers back, the usual boom to her voice vacant. Sasha can feel Bayley’s long slow breaths as she undoes the clasp and pushes the material away.

She’s overtaken by the expanse of open skin, trying to refrain from the overwhelming desire to run her fingers over Bayley’s spine, feel the sharp bend of each shoulder blade, the softness of her neck, the rounded lava of her shoulders. 

She takes a deep breath, setting out to actually start her piece, but she hadn’t planned this far ahead, didn’t really think that she’d get to this point without combusting first.

Sasha closes her eyes, trying to mesh her brain with the color palette she’d chosen without much thought.

_ Confident. _

She muses out loud, letting the word find a physical form in the air. And then she starts without much thought.

She traces out the face of a woman, lays down colors in an effort to create lowlights and highlights, an unforgiving jaw line, high cheekbones. She tries not to pay any mind to the way Bayley squirms every time a new stroke of cold paint touches her skin, or the heat that radiates between them everywhere Sasha touches her. 

Music plays in the background; Sasha drowns herself in paint and steady beats coated in the serene warmth of Kendrick Lamar’s voice. But it’s not enough.

Not enough to distract her from Bayley, not as she uses her skin tone as a basis on highlight, or matches the curvature of her spine to the front of her paintings ribcage. The dark skin that she’s painted pops against the light brown of Bayley’s tan. She paints in dark nipples, that stand as nothing more than the comfort in their display. Bright red lipstick. Natural thick hair that climbs up the back of Bayley’s shoulders, and Bayley shakes at the feeling of confident swirls made so close to her neck. And it takes everything in Sasha, to not lean down and kiss the worry away.

But before she can, the song changes abruptly. LOVE by Kendrick Lamar ft. Zacari begins to seep into the air around them, and Sasha wants to reach over for her phone, change the song, the pressure of the beat, of the context of the song, pushing too hard on her desires. But the device remains out of reach from her position straddling Bayley’s waist. But it’s too late to contemplate moving when Bayley removes an arm from supporting her head to take Sasha’s phone and raise the volume as the verse starts to pick up.

Sasha swallows, trying not to apply the lyrics to their current situation, focusing again on her art piece, adding in necessary highlights, and creating sharp closing lines. 

“I think I’m done” Sasha breathes quietly as the song ends, trying not to disturb the calm peace, realizing her hands and wrists are covered in spots of smudged and misplaced paint, “Can I have my phone?” 

Bayley reaches for it again, handing it to her over the back of her head. Sasha holds it delicately, trying not to get paint all over it as she opens her camera to snap several pictures of her half of the finished project. 

The next dilemma comes in the form of realizing her feet have fallen asleep, “We should get you cleaned up” Sasha whispers, trying to push herself up in an effort to free Bayley from her weight in a way that doesn’t get either of them any more coated in paint.

But the effort isn’t met with any accomplishment, as Sasha simply pushes up to hold herself up on her knees instead of relying on Bayley’s hips, leaving Bayley the freedom to move a few inches, but Sasha’s feet fail her in getting up the rest of the way. 

“You okay?” Bayley rasps, when Sasha doesn’t move to get up.

“Yeah, my foot fell asleep” Sasha finds herself explaining instead of freaking out.

But the shock comes shortly after, when Bayley really moves for the first time in an hour, flipping herself over to face Sasha, her hips cutting abruptly into Sasha’s inner thighs as she does. 

Sasha’s eyes widen if not at the movement, than at the sight of a bare chested Bayley beneath her looking at her like this is intended, like this was the plan all along. The blue haired girl is glued there for a moment, not sure where to look or put her paint covered hands, before she pushes her hands against Bayley’s abdomen in an effort to launch herself away from her.

The press of her hands there, even for a fraction of a second leaves multi-colored hand prints on Bayley’s abs, a cold rush that allows Bayley the time to take hold of both of Sasha’s wrists.

“Hey” Bayley stops, reigning in Sasha’s peaking anxiety, finding her dark irises with her own, instigating a platform for understanding, “It’s okay”

And Sasha believes her, suddenly content to look into Bayley’s eyes for the rest of her life. But there’s new butterflies when Bayley pushes up onto her elbows to capture Sasha’s lips with her own. 

The song switches again, as if to mark the new territory. The Way by Kehlani slides out of the speakers of Sasha’s phone for only their ears, as Bayley moves back to a laid down position pulling Sasha with her as they continue to kiss.

It’s a slow rhythm that falls in against the bass line, as Bayley pushes full hands into blue hair and Sasha still doesn’t know what to do with her hands, her forearms lying against the tarp on each side of Bayley allowing no room between their bodies.

It’s a moment where Sasha isn’t overthinking for once, just basking in the warmth of Bayley’s chest pressed against her, the soft yet firm push of lips she’d only dreamt of kissing, the safety in Bayley’s hands on her. 

But then Bayley’s hands are coming away from scratching at Sasha’s scalp and finding their way around Sasha’s wrists again, moving without hesitation to place Sasha’s paint covered palms to cover Bayley’s hardening nipples. 

Sasha gasps at the confidence of it, but doesn’t question it, too afraid pulling away would reveal this to be some cruel fever dream.

But the pressure of reality becomes more vivid as Bayley licks into her mouth, bites on her bottom lip without warning, suddenly flipping them over to be on top. The weight of Bayley’s body settled into her, pressed Sasha into a new height of arousal, of safety, prompting a new force to come from her gut.

Unashamed moans escaped Sasha’s mouth to be caught against Bayley’s lips as she pulled her closer effectively mushing around any paint on Bayley’s back that had yet to dry, only to push her away a moment after. 

Bayley’s eyes find Sasha’s again in a desperate plea of worry, a frame Sasha has never seen on Bayley’s face.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Sasha-” Bayley starts to ramble, realizing her forward nature, and the lack of verbal consent.

But Sasha doesn’t let her worry for long, pulling herself up at Bayley’s attempt at separation and pulling her down for another kiss.

“It’s okay” Sasha rasps firmly, her voice changing as she reveals, “I just didn’t have enough room to take my shirt off” the motive in pushing Bayley back.

“Oh” Bayley smirks, now sitting up with Sasha practically in her lap, looking down for a time as it sets in that Sasha was being candid about what she wants.

It’s then that Sasha really takes note of the paint marks she’d left behind on Bayley’s body: sure hand prints over her breasts, small lapses of fingers along her biceps, strokes of cautioned color over her hips, they stare back at her as if to mark each space as an area she’s conquered, a place that belongs to her fingertips and no one else’s.

And Bayley catches her starring, pulls her in by the waist as Sasha’s arms settle over her shoulders. She reaches for the hem of Sasha’s shirt in question as their lips meet again. But Sasha takes the reigns, certain in Bayley’s want and her own willingness to provide; she lifts the fabric over her own head before launching herself into Bayley enough for her to crash back fully onto the floor, her head smacking into the carpet.

“Fuck, I’m sorry” Sasha apologizes, having enough restraint to worry about Bayley’s well being before moving ahead.

Bayley only smiles up at her, and Sasha is still blinded, but it isn’t so scary anymore, not when Bayley is holding her like they have all the time in the world, like everything would be alright as long as she had this safety net, and Bayley doesn’t seem to be letting go anytime soon. 

Sasha’s bare chest pushes into Bayley’s, sharing the wealth of paint as the marks press into Sasha’s skin. A jagged press of color that matches one rib cage to another. 

“We should go clean up” Sasha whispers as the paint dries and starts to feel gross, as the sun starts to come down, as she lay on top of Bayley in the mess of her living room, saying they should move, but not really wanting too.

Bayley maneuvers up with Sasha still in her arms, coming to a standing position as Sasha’s legs wrap around Bayley’s waist without thought, carrying her over to her bathroom before setting Sasha down to sit on her bathroom countertop beside the sink.

Bayley takes a hand towel from the rack, wetting it under the sink, before reaching out for Sasha again.

“I’m cold” Sasha pouts, her arms crossing in front of her to seal in some warmth as she’s still shirtless.

“Here” Bayley offers, taking the towel hanging from Sasha’s shower door and laying it over the back of Sasha’s shoulders, “Better?” she questions against Sasha’s ear, kissing her cheek before moving back to her original task.

Sasha whimpers as Bayley starts to wipe away the dried paint from her skin, the cold water dripping down her chest and abs making her shiver. She tries to pull Bayley closer to receive some of her seemingly endless warmth, but Bayley stays focused on ridding Sasha’s skin of any stray marks.

“Gimme” Sasha whines when the goosebumps become too much to bear, requesting the hand towel that Bayley gives up without protest.

And then Sasha is providing the same attention and care to Bayley’s skin taking time in wetting the towel again and clearing off any dried flecks of paint from her hair, before pushing Bayley’s newly cleaned shoulder to make her turn around so Sasha could get to work on her back.

But she stops abruptly at the sight. Her painting had stayed pretty much intact, the red paint of her lips smudged just enough, the brush of the eyes a little more real, new stray marks provide somewhat of a background that only adds to all the beautiful contrast. 

“What?” Bayley asks at the hesitation.

“I think I like this version better” Sasha husks, reaching for her phone from her back pocket, where she’d placed it after pausing the music some time ago. She takes a few new pictures trying to capture the raw nature of seeing it in person, but she realizes the weight of it is only for them, for the only two people who know it’s story.

She brushes it away with the wet towel, kissing against Bayley’s shoulder as her “goodbye”.

They move to Sasha’s bedroom next, after drying thoroughly with the towel Sasha had been using for warmth, now able to steal the heat from Bayley’s skin again.

Sasha walks toward her closet, breaking them apart for only a moment, as Bayley follows close behind, molding herself into Sasha’s back. But space is instigated again as Sasha pulls a clean shirt over her head, and tosses another at Bayley.

Bayley catches it smoothly, but looks at the article of clothing questioningly as if it had personally offended her.

“But I feel so free” she protests, referencing her undressed state, still just in her tight fit leggings, sounding like a dog given free reign over the largest field known to man. 

“But I can’t look at you without wanting to jump you” Sasha voices defiantly. Her hands on her hips.

Bayley tilts her head and raises her eyebrows, a silent question of “and what’s wrong with that?”

Sasha laughs, coming closer to hold Bayley’s jaw between her hands.

“As much fun as that would be right now” Sasha pauses, kissing Bayley’s nose, “I’m tired, and I just wanna cuddle” she requests, hoping the assumption that this wasn’t just about sex for Bayley would be confirmed.

And it is, in the way Bayley surges forward just enough to peck her lips, just enough to tell Sasha the truth.

“Okay” is her response, but Sasha can feel the reverberation of it in her heart, the way that it sinks into her skin along with Bayley’s fingerprints, an understanding that Bayley is in this for the same things as Sasha.

Bayley puts on the shirt.

But Sasha can still feel the heat of her skin as they crawl into her bed, as Bayley holds her against her chest, like she’s wanted this since the first time Sasha sat next to her the first day of class. It feels safe here, safe to say the words they’ve both wanted to say for a while, where there isn’t any fear.

“You’re so beautiful” Bayley whispers, stroking up Sasha’s arm and leaving soft kisses against Sasha’s jaw line.

“I really like you” Sasha confesses through a mumble into Bayley’s neck a few seconds from sleep.

Bayley only laughs softly, trying not to disturb the evening out of Sasha’s breathing.

“I really like you, too” Bayley answers back like it isn’t already clear, like Sasha will remember the words when she wakes up. She places a final kiss to the side of Sasha’s head before finding sleep too. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for like a month, and finally forced myself to write it...back to your regularly scheduled programming
> 
> hope you enjoyed!! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!!
> 
> Eyesfadefromgreentogray on tumblr


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